


For The Record

by TeaSh0pLee



Series: Raihan’s bet [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Angst??, How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental Health Awareness, No beta we die like I wish Rose had, Piers and Leon aren’t really okay, Pokemon, bad mental health, boys gonna get referred to some good therapists, but happy ending, fluff?, i didn’t mean to it to be like this, idk how to tag this?, im not sorry for it tho, its funny i think, leon - Freeform, milo - Freeform, piers - Freeform, raihan - Freeform, this is a mess, zigzagoon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaSh0pLee/pseuds/TeaSh0pLee
Summary: Piers and Raihan are in love with men they assume are straight and bond over it, or something? Idk I couldn’t get the song 36 questions out of my head when thinking abt Piers and Milo and so this was born.Or, two dudes being bros, berating each other until they confess to their crushes.—okay this has turned into a lot more than that, but we’re still rolling with it.
Relationships: Dande | Leon & Kibana | Raihan, Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan, Nezu | Piers & Yarrow | Milo, Nezu | Piers/Yarrow | Milo
Series: Raihan’s bet [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909903
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

Raihan sighs as he sits back on Piers’ worn sofa, brushing the slightest amount of cigarette ash off of the cushion as he does so. There are a few habits he wishes his best friend would kick, and smoking-at least inside the house- was one of them. He takes the can of beer Piers offers him though, cracking it open and reveling in the satisfying fizz as some of the carbonation releases.  
“For the record, this is self destructive,” Raihan says, taking a sip of the beverage. It’s not as cold as he typically likes, having been sitting on the coffee table and not in the refrigerator, but Raihan is in no mood to complain right about now.  
Piers chuckles as he decidedly perched on the arm of the sofa opposite Raihan, one of his thickly studded boots hanging over the edge, the other firmly planted in the couch cushion, right over a spot that’s been patched with thick denim on more than one occasion, those same boots having worn right through the fabric time and time again from the utter abuse Piers puts it through.  
“For the record, I’m aware of that,” says Piers, taking another drag off of one of those fucking cancer sticks he can’t seem to drop, flicking most of the ash into a days-old empty beer can, the top blackened with stray flecks of cigarette ash. He sighs deeply upon exhaling, dragging his free hand over his face, “For the record, I’ve been picturing his body, draped over the sofa wearing nothing but his hat-“ Piers regrets saying that our loud, but then again, he trusts Raihan more than anyone else. After all, Raihan already knew that Piers was crushing on the grass type gym leader, in all of his muscled, freckly glory. Raihan simply takes another swig of his drink, not as phased as he probably should be by his friends declaration.  
“For the record-” he starts to say again, his voice low and drawling, only to be cut short by Piers’ long groan of “I’m screwed.”  
Raihan simply takes another sip of his lukewarm beer and sighs, “Man, I thought my pining over tHe GrEaT cHaMpIoN was bad.” The words slip out of his mouth in a sarcastic manner, truth is, he’s been in love with Leon since they were kids but he’s too afraid to ruin his friendship with the so obviously straight champion of the region, who has only ever pursued women- only ever pursued Pokégram models since he broke up with Sonia a few years back. He reaches up and scratches his scalp, tightly pulled back in his usual arrangement of somewhat uneven cornrows. Piers scoffs at him, though in truth he knows that Raihan knows exactly how he feels. He runs a hand through his own hair, patting the zigzagoon that near constantly sits nestled in the mass of (somewhat sloppily) died strands that sit up there, creating tangles that Piers will no doubt have to brush out later. Piers can’t explain why he doesn’t kick the rascal out of there. It started as a cute quirk, this particular zigzagoon being a runt and needing some extra support, but it’s become habit. Nowadays, Piers is honestly not sure if he wants to evict it, the small creature having become quite the support system for himself- who despite being a rockstar, suffers from a fair bit of social anxiety. The animal nestled there also helps tremendously with Piers’ depressive episodes, which he’s suffered with since he was a preteen. He looks back at Raihan then, “For the record, this could still go my way...” he trails off as Raihan meets his eyes.  
“So you’re going to tell him how you feel then?” Raihan says, idly taking another sip, and flicking on the tv with the remote he grabbed off of the coffee table. Some foreign Pokémon match is on, the volume so low you can scarcely hear it. Piers takes another drag, “For the record I can keep my pride...” Raihan sighs.  
“Look man, you’re either going to tell him or you’re not, now what’ll it be?” The Spikemuth gym leader throws his leg over the couch and stands up, starting to pace, “Fuck Rai- I don’t know anymore. I’m pretty sure Milo is the definition of heterosexual, I can’t just expect him to like me back, I’m the exact opposite of a farm boys type, I’m- well look at me!” Piers takes a few breath, then immediately follows it up by another pull from the cigarette, “I just don’t want to scare him away...”  
Raihan also stands then, crossing the room to wrap an arm around his friends shoulder, despite the smoke hanging thickly in the air around him, “Look, Piers, I’ll make a bet with you. Whoever of us confesses their feelings first gets to ask the other for a favor. That favor can be ANYTHING, no expiration date-“ he’s cut short by Piers, over a head shorter than him, looking up at him with a small grin.  
“Raihan, you have yourself a deal.” And with that, he walks straight out of his house, towards what Raihan assumes must be Turffield. He leave the door wide open.  
Oh hell, Raihan thinks, and follows suit, downing the rest of his beer quickly and leaving the can on the coffee table. He too leaves, but closes the door behind him and heads to Wyndon, wondering what the hell he is going to say to his childhood friend and rival.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers goes to see Milo. Things aren’t quite as he’d have hoped.

Piers can’t believe the flying taxis aren’t running. Sure, it might be 3am, but he’s not sure how long his steeled nerves will last. Fuck it, he decides, he’s going to walk to Turffield. Through Hammerlocke, through the wild area, and take the twisted path that is so absolutely ridiculous. But he has to, or he will eat his feelings for the next several years. It’s really not that far to Turffield, as the crow flies, but by foot, it’s horrid.   
Piers goes anyway. He has his team on his belt, as usual, but left his tent and all of his supplies back at home, with Raihan. He hopes Raihan closes the door, since he was a wanker and didn’t bother. Moreso because if he stops for any reason he will turn his ass around and head back to Spikemuth. Courage is after all, a fickle thing.   
He’s glad he always keeps a few Repels at his belt, because dealing with wild Pokémon right now isn’t the most appealing thing. He will have to use them sparingly though, he doesn’t have nearly enough to make it all of the way. But Piers isn’t a stranger to the routes and wild areas and he knows how to avoid wild Pokémon, mostly. There’s always a handful that give Piers and his team something to fret about, because of course they have to bother him when he’s on his way to confess his attraction to a man he’s not even sure is gay. They end up in a few altercations and soon enough, Piers is using up his last Repel. Thank Arceus that he’s almost to Turffield by now. He’s bone tired, and maybe a bit hungover, but he’s made it. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he hears the tell-tail bleat of a Wooloo, but he manages to stumble into town. Dawn is breaking now, and he decides to head straight for Milo’s house. It’s a quaint thing, much unlike the shabby duplex Piers shares with his sister Marnie. Admittedly her side of the building is much more orderly than the utter disaster that Piers chooses to call a depression nest.   
But Milo’s place, almost resembles a cottage. It’s the color of eggshells. The front porch has a clutter of flowerpots strewn in a pattern that looks almost purposeful and there’s a small porch swing that a bit of Ivy is trying to climb. Piers’ mouth is dry as he goes to knock on the door, but with purposeful steps he does so.   
There isn’t an answer. Of fucking course there isn’t. Piers isn’t sure what the fuck to do now, he hadn’t fucking planned anything. But he’s too tired to think and the porch swing has a few worn, yet fluffy cushions on it. Maybe a nap would do him good. 

“Wh- Piers?! Oh Arceus, are you okay?!” A voice-Milo’s voice- breaks Piers out of his slumber.   
He sits up, all too fast for having just been woken up and ends up falling back over again, which leads to Milo fluttering around him, checking every minuscule inch of Piers’ body to make sure he isn’t going to die. Piers is, of course, fine. If fine means his heart is racing, his palms sweating, at the thought of Milo there, fluttering over him in a frenzy. He clears his throat, and sits up again, more slowly this time. “M fine.” He’s embarrassed to be caught sleeping on Milo’s amazingly comfortable porch swing, probably looking like something that was run over by the train-at least twice. But Milo doesn’t stop fluttering worriedly around, bombarding him with a stream of “Oh Arceus,” “Are you okay,” and “What are you doing here?” until Piers reaches up, and grasps his wrists softly, forcing Milo to meet his eyes and reminding himself once again how fucked he was. He’s lost in swirling fields of green the moment he meets Milo’s eyes and he wants to drown himself in the endless meadows he finds there. He swallows and licks his lips, trying to find the words he so desperately needs to say, but instead he settles for, “I’m alright, Milo. Just tired,” and a small smile. He realizes then, that Milo isn’t wearing his typical hat, and that his hair is tousled beautifully, as though he too had just woken up. The sunlight streams through the soft peachy strands and Piers’ mouth goes dry at just how beautiful Milo is, his face still somewhat concerned, but now wearing a small mile to match Piers’.   
“I have to go out and feed the Wooloo,” he says, softly pulling his hands from Piers’ grasp. “The door is unlocked, please, make yourself at home. This shouldn’t take me more than 30 minutes, then I expect an explanation as to why I’ve found you passed out on my porch this fine morning." His hand brushes softly against the side of Piers’ face and Piers surely thinks he will die. The touch is soft, barely a whisper, yet Piers feels every calloused bump, formed from years of hard work. He can’t find the words to reply, but just nods his head, watching helplessly as Milo’s wide shoulders head off towards his pastures.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raihan goes to see Leon, and remembers why he was drinking room temperature alcohol on Piers’ couch.

Raihan is so fucked. He’d forgotten why he’d been on Piers’ couch, drinking room temperature alcohol in the first place. He and Leon currently aren’t speaking to each other. Raihan let it slip that he thinks Chairman Rose is a twat and Leon threw him out, saying something about how he should be grateful for the Chairman and all he’s done for Hammerlocke and the rest of Galar. Raihan doesn’t understand how Leon can possibly still be supporting and defending the man who literally milks him for fame, the man who is and has been incredibly toxic and manipulative towards Leon since he became champion at a young age...wait. If Leon has been manipulated by him from such a young age, he probably doesn’t even know everything Rose has done on the side...His phone is company provided, after all-probably monitored and set with web restrictions. Of course he wouldn’t know about the nastiest of Rose’s schemes. Raihan needs to apologize, try to talk things through with him, but to take it slow. He’d treated him during that conversation as he would’ve any normal adult, but Leon has literally been through hell with that man, and has been made to trust him. He should’ve known before saying anything that Leon’s mindset towards The Chairman would be so direct. He’d practically raised Leon, he’d seen and been under the influence of the Chairman more than his own mother since becoming Champion. And Raihan should’ve known better. Especially after taking all of those classes in psychology and in childhood development after he’d been released from foster care. He has a degree in the stuff, and he uses it frequently, working closely with the woman who raised him, and offering jobs in the gym to many of her foster kids. A few of them even excelled so far as to become gym trainers with him and he’s so very proud of the progress they’ve made since they came into care.   
Back to Leon though, Raihan sighs deeply, regret seeping in. He knows, he fucking knows how hard it can be for those being mistreated and abused to see it, especially when it’s happened from a young age. They’re used to it, they think it’s the norm, but it absolutely isn’t, and Raihan hopes that he can apologize, and explain to Leon what’s happening, slowly so as not to cause further turmoil. Arceus, he just hopes he hasn’t fucked up too terribly, and that Leon will actually open the door and let him in. 

He’s in Wyndon now, and so fucking nervous. His palms are more sweaty than he thinks they’ve ever been. He’s never this jittery, not during public speaking, not during Pokémon matches- especially not during Pokémon matches. He approaches the small townhouse that Leon calls home, it’s a bit more secluded from the rest of the town, and has a tall privacy fence surrounding the backyard, so that his Pokémon can roam the area without being too easily spotted. He isn’t sure how they’ve kept this small house a secret yet, but everyone believes that Leon just lives in the penthouse suite of The Rose-the ridiculous hotel that the “Wonderful Chairman” had the audacity to name after himself. There’s never any paparazzi around Leon’s house, and it’s almost suspicious that no one has found it, since Leon moved in several years ago (beforehand he really did live at The Rose). 

The house is so unassuming from the outside. The same shade of grey that most of the city is, no front porch, just asphalt steps up into the house, the door a sad shade of what used to be green, paint flaking and the handle worn. The curtains, black and always closed. Honestly, you might look at the house and think no one is home, but Raihan knows to listen for the TV, always playing reruns of foreign Pokémon matches when Leon is home. He hears the telltale muffled announcers voice as he approaches the door, and then knocks. His signature knock actually, so Leon knows it’s him. Two short raps, one long, then two more short. He’s not sure if Leon will open the door, not sure if he will ever be forgiven for speaking so carelessly, but he hears footsteps. Will Leon tell him to leave, or will he let him inside? Raihan holds his breath, pleading silently for the latter. The door opens.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milo’s house isn’t what Piers expected.

Piers steps inside of Milo’s home, nervous. He breathes in and immediately is drawn to the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen. He needs some of that if he’s going to get through doing whatever he’s about to do. The kitchen is as quaint as the rest of the house, eggshell walls again, but with cute blackberry trim winding it’s way around the room. Piers had expected Milo to have white appliances in his house, but they were the same shade of blackberry and shone glossily in the morning light that peeked through the sheer green curtains. The countertops were the same eggshell shade, and spotless, with light maple cupboards. The coffee pot sat next to the fridge, a rack of hanging mugs above it, as well as a blackberry themed mug sitting half-full with black coffee, still steaming slightly. Piers wouldn’t have guessed that Milo would be into black coffee, or blackberries even, but here he was, in his kitchen, waiting miserably to explain himself. There’s, oddly enough, a mug with a Galarian Zigzagoon on it, in Spikemuth’s pink of all things that Piers is drawn to immediately. He collects the cup, and notes with surprise that it has his name on it- a printed out version of his signature and a concert date. Must’ve been something that Team Yell had put together to sell at one of his small venues... but where had Milo gotten it? 

There’s time to dwell on that later, of course, as Piers fills the mug halfway with coffee, and opens the fridge relieved to find some thick cream, just waiting to be poured into his coffee, on the top shelf. He pours a small amount into his coffee, and finds the sugar in a small, blackberry-themed container next to the sink. He adds a heaping amount, needing the sugar just as much as the caffeine to get through the day, and stirs it with a spoon he found sitting in the dish drainer. He places the spoon into the spotless sink and finds a seat at the dining room table, facing the door. The chairs and table are the same light wood that the cupboards are, but the chairs have seat cushions upon them, and the table has placemats that are all the same blackberry theme. In the center of the table sits a beautiful floral arrangement of white and pink flowers, with specifically placed foliage from, blackberries, again. It was odd, Piers thought idly, but he had to admit, that blackberries surely were the perfect fit for Milo. 

His eyes wander to the eloquently framed photos on the wall, hanging quaintly against the light wallpaper. A few of Milo as a child, a few of a man and woman who Piers assumes are his parents, and a handful of Milo with a younger boy. Marines age, maybe a bit younger- his brother from what Piers can tell. There is a bookshelf haphazardly packed with books along the far wall, but not a speck of dust in sight, and Piers idly scans the spines for any titles that may stick out. There are a lot about farming, he notes, and several about gardening and flower arrangements. His eyes catch on one about guitar and how to play it when he hears the door open, and his eyes snap towards it.

There’s Milo, in all of his glory, a bit of hay stuck in his hair, that he reflexively moves to shake out before he meets Piers’ eyes. He stops, as if he’d forgotten that Piers was here, before he drawls,  
“I honestly didn’t think you’d stick around...” Piers smiled sheepishly at that,  
“Well, I figured I owed you an explanation after taking a nap on your porch, and I promise you’ll get one-an explanation of course- but I may need another cup of coffee before I get that far.” He feels the Zigzagoon in his hair shift slightly and Milo’s eyes look like they’ll bug out of his head.  
“Did your hair just MOVE?!” he blurts, before slapping a hand over his mouth and looking embarrassed. Piers smiles and reaches up to scratch the Zigzagoon on the chin, which the little one extends out of the mass of hair upon his head so that Piers can get a better angle, and also completely revealing to the man he’s here to confess his love to that he lets a Zigzagoon nest in his hair. 

Milo is standing there, speechless as Piers takes another sip of his coffee. He hopes he hasn’t completely disgusted the poor man with his habits. But Milo surprises him again when his face slowly lights up and he asks,  
“Can I pet him?!” while creeping slowly towards Piers. Maybe Piers doesn’t have to worry about as much as he thought.

As Milo scratches his Zigzagoon, who has now fully emerged and was wrapped around Piers’ shoulders, Piers feels his heart melt, even more than it already has towards the beautiful farm boy standing next to him and the words slip from his mouth without his permission,  
“Arceus, I love you,” 

He and Milo process what he’s just said in unison, and they both freeze, leaving the poor Zigzagoon without pats and both of the men trying desperately to process what was just said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the opposite of what Rai expects to find when he pays Leon a visit.

The chipped green door swings inward and Raihan holds his breath, his stomach in knots and filled with worry that Leon might throw him out once more. 

That isn’t what happens though, and what he does see, sends his stomach plummeting to his toes.  
As the door opens, slow and shaky, and Leon looks an absolute wreck. It’s obvious that he is upset and has been crying, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, his hair is disheveled and he has ice cream spilled on his shirt- no, this shirt isn’t his, it’s one of Raihan’s- a long sleeve black thermal with the Hammerlocke logo printed on the breast. It’s too big for him, barely, and it slides down one of his shoulders, revealing his collarbone. Before Raihan can even begin the thought-out apology he’d planned, Leon leaps on him, wrapping him in a hug and falling apart, sobs ripping from his chest. 

Though paparazzi tend to avoid the area, Leon does have a few neighbors, and wanting to avoid any negative publicity, Raihan quickly ushered Leon inside, wrapping one arm firmly around him and closing the door. 

The sobs continue to wrack Leon’s body, and it becomes clear to Raihan that he’s interrupted Leon completely coming to pieces. He knows his apology can wait and that he needs to help Leon through whatever this is first. He pulls Leon, gently to the sofa-a worn secondhand piece that is beyond comfortable, despite the few stains it bears, and the borderline ridiculous throw blanket replica of Leon’s champion cape thrown over the back-and sits his Champion down, almost cradling him, and rubbing slow circles into his back, but leaving space for him to move away from Raihan if needed. The last thing Leon needs is to feel trapped, as that can escalate panic, Raihan muses silently to himself, drawing on his psychology courses, while also making a point of breathing loudly and deeply, hoping that Leon will subconsciously pick up on it, because he doesn’t trust his own voice with verbal instruction at the moment. 

Leon picks up on it though, and even through the wracking sobs, his breathing does begin to even out, matching the even pace that Raihan set with his own lungs, until, slowly but surely, the sobs quiet to occasionally hiccups of sorrow, and eventually to silence. Raihan realizes then that his childhood rival is asleep, having cried himself there, in Raihan’s arms. 

Raihan has no idea what’s caused Leon to fall apart like this, but it pains him to see the one he loves in such a state. He knows sleep is probably best for Leon, and feels incredibly emotionally and physically drained himself. He moves slowly, so as not to wake his sleeping Champion, and slowly untangles Leon from himself, letting Leon down gently onto the couch, and pulling the throw that was draped over the back to cover him. 

Raihan realizes then, that he’s been thinking of Leon as HIS Champion, and wonders idly when it began. He doesn’t know, even as he makes his way over to the life-size Snorlax bean bag that Leon had fallen entirely in love with when he laid his eyes on it, and crawls into the plush comfort of the thing, curling up into a ball to sit with his thoughts and perhaps catch a nap of his own while Leon sleeps.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw panic attack?   
> Not sure if this is needed, but here it is.
> 
> Or: Piers kind of falls apart in Milo’s kitchen

Piers can’t believe he just said that out loud, what was he thinking, he wasn’t thinking, Arceus why wasn’t he thinking, what if Milo hates him now, why did he say it like that, how is this his life, oh, why did he say that out loud, maybe Milo didn’t hear him, of course Milo heard him, is Milo disgusted by him now, he doesn’t think he could live if Milo is disgusted with him, he’s disgusted with himself, what if Milo is straight, what ifMilo is gay, what if Milo is gay but hates him, what if he hates him, oh he probably hates him, he hates himself, he hates himself, he hates himself, he can’t breathe, he hates himself.

He feels a cold wet smear against his forehead and realizes with a start that he is on the floor, back pressed against the wall, with his Zigzagoon pressing its nose into his face. Milo is there, crouched low to the ground, looking at him with worried eyes for the second time that morning. Gone was his fluttering about though, he’s totally focused on Piers in this moment, and Piers feels the flood of thoughts building its second wave and his breathing begins to spike again. But before it can get to that point, Milo carefully scoots himself next to Piers-not touching him at all, but coming to sit beside him- and starts to speak softly. It takes Piers a few moments to focus on what exactly Milo is saying, but once the panic somewhat subsides and he can breathe easier, the words come into focus. Milo is telling him a story, sitting next to him, not staring at or touching him, but filling the silence with distractions, and spinning a lighthearted tale about a little Wooloo, playing in the meadows and making slight mischief. Piers swallows hard and unclenches the fists he didn’t realize he’d made, taking one of his hands and setting it over Milo’s, not quite ready to turn towards him, or meet his eyes, but a start. 

To Milo’s credit, he doesn’t move until Piers turns to face him, continuing to ramble on about the little Wooloo until Piers gave his hand a squeeze. The story abruptly comes to pause and Milo looks over to Piers, smiling softly, but Piers still sees some worry sitting behind his eyes. Piers is looking for the words he needs and he can feel an apology starting to form in his chest when Milo speaks,  
“You don’t need to apologize, you know?” It’s soft and low, the same volume he used when speaking of the Little Wooloo, and Piers can’t help but rasp,   
“I am sorry though...” he trails off but meets Milo’s eyes for a brief moment, before meticulously studying the hardwood floor. Milo says nothing for a moment, and Piers’ heart accelerates for a moment before Milo breaks the silence once more,   
“You have done nothing today to warrant an apology-Piers you haven’t done anything wrong. I know it can be reflexive, but you really have no need to apologize for anything, ” he is struggling to keep his voice low and level now, and Piers is still staring at the floor- Milo is so close now that if he looks at him, he knows he will loose himself in counting his freckles, “I am curious as to why I found you on my porch this morning, but I’m not angry nor upset with you. You can tell me when you feel ready to speak, I will not rush you, and if you need breaks that’s just fine too,” he continues to drawl, soft and low, and Piers realizes that he’s right, that the only thing he’s owed is an explanation for the porch, and he figures he will give it his best shot. He licks his lips and draws a shaky breath,   
“...Made a stupid bet with Rai and was coming to see you. No flying taxis running so I walked here, and your porch looked comfy...” there, short and to the point, and hopefully enough for now. Milo turns the hand Piers is holding over, so that he too can give Piers’ had a soft, reassuring squeeze and Piers is sure his heart hammering is audible in the space between them before Milo’s voice fills it, still as soft and warm as ever,   
“Is the ‘stupid bet’ the reason you’re on the floor? Hun, I’ve dealt with a share of panic attacks myself, I understand how easily it can be to get overwhelmed, especially in stressful situations, but you had me worried there for a minute, and if I’m honest I’m still slightly worried for you,” Piers’ heart stutters on the word ‘hun,’ and there is a brief pause where Milo takes a deep breath, “Telling someone you love them doesn’t usually cause a panic as severe as that, even if done so accidentally...”   
And there it was, Milo had definitely heard him. His brain tries to pull him back to the small, tight space where his thoughts can more easily overtake him when he feels Milo’s thumb start to rub small, slow circles into the back of his hand. Piers isn’t sure of the words and impulsively goes to apologize again, but Milo cuts him short,   
“Hey, I already said you have no need to apologize. I believe we need to sit and talk in depth about this, but there’s no rush for that. If it puts your heart somewhat at ease to hear me say that I care very deeply for you as well, not strictly in a platonic sense, then I will say it, but again, we need to have this discussion at another time. For now, if it’s alright with you, I’m going to take off your shoes, remove your Pokémon from your waist, and tuck you into bed so you may get some proper rest?” Piers’ mouth is dry and he’s doing his best not to overthink Milo’s words as he gives a short, curt nod. His shoes are swiftly untied and removed, though his socks are left on, and his utility belt unbuckled and removed as well, with fingers so swift that he hardly notices them. There’s a pause,   
“Would you like to walk to the bedroom, or may I carry you?” Milo asks softly and Piers doesn’t have the energy to think too hard before his mouth opens and he whispers,   
“Carry, please,” his voice breaking slightly before he’s lifted effortlessly into muscular arms and tucked into what has to be the most comfortable bed he’s ever been in. He doesn’t have time to think, or to dwell on anything as exhaustion takes him the moment his head touches the pillow. 

Milo can’t believe that this has been his morning, as he tucks Piers into his bed, gives a small scratch to the Zigzagoon who has crawled out of his hair to curl upon his chest, and goes to the kitchen, to tidy the small amount of coffee Piers had spilled when he shot from the table to the floor. It had all been captured by the placement, thankfully, and Milo places it in the wash before he goes back to the kitchen, washing Piers’ mug- one that he’d actually gotten at one of his small concerts a couple of months ago- and takes the last few swigs of his own, now cold coffee. He pulls out his Rotom and sends Raihan a text message.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raihan gets a text message

Raihan’s phone buzzes in his pocket, where he had stuck it when he settled in for his nap. The Rotom is set to silent from the hours of 9pm to 9am, only allowing vibrating calls and texts from Leon, the other gym leaders, Leon’s brother Hop, his wonderful foster mom, and (unfortunately) Oleana and the Chairman.   
You wouldn’t think by looking at him that he’s a light sleeper, but Raihan has struggled to maintain a steady sleeping schedule since he was young. Even vibrating calls and text messages stir him awake, though they aren’t as jarring as his ringtone waking him.   
He forces his eyes open, with a quick glance to Leon, still fast asleep on the couch. Raihan swears he’s a Snorlax, in fact, the giant bean bag he’s currently curled up on was a gift, and a joke, that Raihan had bestowed upon Leon for his last birthday.  
He rubs the sleep from his eyes with one hand as his other hand drifts to his pocket to check his phone. 6:37 am. Glaring at him from the top of his notification list, above dozens of Pokégram likes and comments, is a text message from Milo.   
Raihan blinks as he reads the text, and almost drops his phone when another comes through, bringing the first text into context. 

~Care to explain?~  
~IMAGE~ 

The image is one of Piers, fast asleep in what appears to be Milo’s bed, his hair more so a mess than it usually is, and his Zigzagoon curled up on his chest. He looks absolutely exhausted, face red and slightly splotchy, and Raihan knows too well, after bringing Piers down from so many panic attacks over the years what the aftermath looks like. Raihan glances again to Leon on the couch and can’t help but think of how similar his two best friends are, but before he can respond to Milo’s message, another comes through. 

~I found him sleeping on my porch this morning when I went to do morning chores. I invited him inside for coffee while I fed the Wooloo. When I got back, we were chatting, and he told me that he loved me. It more or less slipped out, and also triggered a panic attack. As you can see, I have the situation handled, and we will be having a discussion about our feelings when he wakes up, if he feels up to it. But he told me about your bet. You’d better hold up to your end of the bargain for what you put him through today. I’ll call you after 9~ 

So Raihan had lost his own bet. That’s fine. He’s going to have more to worry about when Leon wakes up than owing Piers. He can’t help but send a response to the Turffield gym leader though.

~He’s got it bad for you, Milo, I couldn’t just let him chainsmoke on his couch and pine after you forever. For his sake though, I do hope you feel the same.   
And how about a text instead of a call? I’m still going to go through with my half of the bet, but it’s a bit more complicated than I thought.~ 

He send the text and groans, dropping the phone to his chest. In doing so he sees that Leon is no longer sleeping, but is blinking slowly at him from the couch, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself Raihan is real.   
Leon blinks once.   
Raihan blinks back at him.  
Leon blinks twice, and again, Raihan follows the same pattern, closing his eyes in the same succession that the man on the couch had.   
Three blinks from Leon this time.   
Raihan returns them, wondering what he should say, if he should say anything at all, when Leon breaks the silence, voice cracking,  
“-re still here?” He rasps, sounding sad and confused. Raihan nods,   
“Why would I leave?” The words are almost a whisper. Leon waves an arm in an unassuming gesture,   
“I, uh, thought you were mad at me...”   
At this, Raihan flails his body in order to remove himself from the snorlax beanbag, and, instead of standing and walking the few feet to the couch, somehow finds it a good idea to roll there instead, bashing his shin on the coffee table in the process. He holds in a swear even as he smoothly moves to sit next to the couch, much closer to where Leon is still laying, half covered with his throw blanket.   
“Wasn’t mad, am not mad, I’m the one who spoke without thinking and I’m sorry. I know how much Chairman Rose means to you...” There’s a pause before Leon responds,   
“He doesn’t mean as much as you do, though,” there’s empty silence, Leon is trying to work through the implications of what he is trying to say and Raihan ponders the weight of what was just said, “You’re my best friend, you’ve been there for me all of these years, even when I’ve been an arrogant twat. You keep me grounded, order food when I’m upset, you’re just as crazy about Pokémon as I am, and you’re always here if I need you. I thought I’d made the biggest mistake of my life when I made you leave. You didn’t text or call and I was certain I’d scared you away for good. It made me realize how deeply I care for you- have cared for you for all of these years. I was so scared, Rai, that you wouldn’t come back and I’d lose you. I was trying to find the words to call and apologize but they never seemed to fit together well enough. I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. I know Rose has done some shady shit, hell, is still doing some shady shit, but the guy is like a dad to me and it’s hard to hear anyone talking about him like that. I’m still working on acknowledging the toxic person he tends to be, and trying to maintain both my relationship with him as a person, and as my boss, as well as my position as Champion while doing so is really taking it’s toll on me. I’ve been stressed and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. You deserve better....” Leon trails into silence and Raihan breathes deeply through his nose, wondering how to say what he came here to say with emotions running so high between them.


End file.
